


Hidden talents

by Celeporn



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celeporn/pseuds/Celeporn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard Link has never <i>ever</i> considered himself a person with vivid imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden talents

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite pointless and my English probably sucks ass, but god damn world needs more light-hearted Link/Allen. And writing this was fun, hopefully reading will be too.

 

 

Howard Link has never _ever_ considered himself a person with vivid imagination.

But as things progress, it feels like he should re-evaluate this estimation. It just might be incorrect.

Very, _very_ incorrect.

(And _incorrect_ , indeed.)

“Well, if you wanna give up...”

Walker doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence when Link already stands up and tugs his trousers off. Constant stream of losses is bad for his ego, but the mere thought of giving up is even worse. He knows Walker is cheating, the boy admitted it himself, and _damn_ if he isn’t going to see through those moves — notice the swift flicks of fingers, point out replaced cards. Link doesn’t feel like he’s getting the gist of this, he just loses and loses and loses, but _surely_ any minute now he will spot _something_...

It would be easier if he wasn’t so distracted by Walker’s gaze. It sweeps over his now-way-too-scantily-clad body, leaves goose bumps on it’s trail, but despite those chills and the shudders running down Link’s spine his face feels hot, burning almost.

 _It’s only due irritation_ , he decides, because otherwise it would be stupid to react this way, really. _It is stupid to react at all._ They change clothes every day in the same room with each other — undress and get dressed and undress again — so a silly little card game shouldn’t stir anything, be it strip poker or not.

Howard Link has dropped his slacks in the company of Allen Walker before. It was nothing.

But on the other hand he never before needed to give his slacks to Walker. Who, by the way, has wrapped Link’s tie around his head to keep _(those silky soft ashen white)_ hair out of his face.

Link swallows. Heavily. His mouth is dry and still he oddly feels like he’s drooling.

“This is supposed to be fun, you know”, Walker remarks while dealing a new hand. Link doesn’t answer, just stares at his own neatly folded trousers.

Walker loses that round. He takes off his bow tie. Link is about to say that the doesn’t want or need consolation prizes, but...

... but on the next round Walker loses his vest, then his shirt, and Link isn’t so sure anymore. _Oh, no._ And when his highest card is pitiful seven of hearts and he still gets rewarded with Walker’s belt, _consolation_ really is the last thing on his mind.

 

Howard Link has never _ever_ considered himself a person with vivid imagination.

But as half-dressed Allen Walker lays down on the floor, stretches like a languid cat, smiles feigning innocence and tells that gambling isn’t the only intriguing trick he has learned in order to get money for his master’s debts, Link knows his former estimation is incorrect.

Very, _very_ incorrect.

Just like his imagination, too.


End file.
